


Clap Along if You Feel

by raiining



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, slave!Clint, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:05:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick always said he’d buy Phil a slave boy if he didn’t settle down and learn to look after himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clap Along if You Feel

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [House Sparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1319677) by [AdamantSteve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve). 



> I wrote this because I wanted to write about Phil getting a surprise blowjob, and then realized that it was probably inspired by AdamantSteve's fabulous "House Sparrow", so go read that first! Then come back and read this. *g*
> 
> This is a Slave Verse AU. Clint is happy and consenting, but there are obviously power issues at play. Phil is also caught-off guard and doesn’t realize that Clint’s a slave at first. 
> 
> Phil’s mother has just died and Phil’s moving into her house. This might be hard for anyone who’s had to go through the experience :(
> 
> (I, fortunately, haven't)
> 
> Many thanks to desert_neon for beta'ing this for me. Thank you!!

Phil groans, but the banging just keeps getting louder.

“All right, _all right!_ I’m coming!”

Prying himself off the couch, Phil stumbles to the door and wrenches it open. “What?!”

A youngish man with dirty blonde hair is standing on his front porch. He lowers his fist, smiling cheekily. “Delivery for Mr. Coulson?”

Phil’s shoulders slump in defeat. There’s _more_? He shambles away from the door and waves in the general direction of the kitchen. “Just put it in there.”

The man nods and walks in, glancing over the house. Phil ignores him. He makes it back to the couch before collapsing, slumping down into the soft cushions and fisting a hand into each eye. He aches _everywhere_. It’s a low, persistent drone that’s been building since before the hospital visits and the funeral, since before this latest op in Madrid. “How much more is there?”

The man makes a noncommittal hum. “I think this is the last of it.”

“Thank _Christ_.” Phil drops his hands on the sofa and tips his head over the edge. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

The man – boy? No, he’s clearly not a teenager, he might even be closer to thirty, he has one of those faces – wanders into the living room. “Did you recently move, or something?”

“Or something,” Phil agrees. 

The man doesn’t say anything, just watches him, and something in his patiently interested expression makes Phil explain. “My mother died. This house was hers. I’m used to living in an apartment, not – ” He waves a hand and grimaces.

“An old brownstone?”

“Right.” Phil glances at the plethora of boxes, memories and junk scattered about in equal measure. 

He’s going to have to go through all of this. He’s going to have to sort it. The immensity of the task frightens him. Usually he enjoys a challenge, but this… Phil lets his head flop back against the sofa. 

Maybe going straight from the funeral to Fury’s office and demanding a mission overseas hadn’t been the smartest decision he’s ever made. 

“You look exhausted.”

Phil looks over and realizes the guy is still standing there. Phil had almost forgotten about him. “Yes, thank you, Sir Apropos of Nothing. I hadn’t realized that.” 

The man nods. He doesn’t look offended. “Right then. Come on, up we go.” He hauls Phil off the sofa.

“Hey, what are you – ” Phil bats the guy’s hands away, which is a lame reaction from a secret agent. He could totally flip this guy over his shoulder. “Stop that.”

“Nope, come on. Let’s go. You need to sleep.”

“I will,” Phil argues. “Right here. This couch and I are good friends. Hey, what are you – ?” He tries to twist away, but the man’s grip is sturdy and Phil is _really_ tired. Also, the guy smells nice. Very, very nice. Phil finds himself leaning in. “Is that sandalwood?”

The man rolls his eyes. “It’s aftershave. I was trying to make a good first impression. I hadn’t realized you’d barely be conscious. Come on now, into bed.” 

Phil looks around and realizes they’ve made it to the bedroom. The master bedroom, not the smaller, stuffier side-room he’d been planning to sleep in, if he ever made it off the couch. 

“No, this is –” _Mom’s room_ “I can’t sleep here.”

“The sheets look new,” the guy says. He pulls the comforter back and leans down to sniff them. “Smell clean, too.”

Phil loses several moments staring at the guy’s ass. When he bends over it’s like a perfect, round moon, right there in front of his face. 

He blinks when he realizes the guy has straightened and is smirking at him.

“Shut up.” Phil scowls, ignoring his own blush. “I could kill you ten ways with a pencil.”

“I'm sure you could,” the guy says, but it’s easy instead of mocking. “Come on, now; into bed.” He reaches for Phil’s sweater.

Phil glares. “I can do it myself.”

“Uh-huh?”

“I _can_ ,” Phil insists. He proves it by pulling the sweater up over his head and dropping it into the hamper. He only sways a little bit. “See?”

The guy smiles. “Congratulations. That’s very good. Do you want a blowjob?”

Phil’s tired brain stutters over that sentence. “What?”

“I was going to offer a cookie, but – ” The guy shrugs. “A blowjob sounded more appropriate.”

“Uhh,” Phil trails off as the guy – the very _hot_ , very _good looking_ guy, sidles closer into his space. “I’m not – ”

“Not gay? Sweetie, don’t even try that one with me.”

“No,” Phil protests, blushing furiously. “I mean I’m not, not up for reciprocating, or anything. I’m probably just going to pass out into a drooling puddle,” he admits. 

For some reason, that makes the guy smile. It’s soft and sort of sweet. “That’s okay. Just let me make you feel good for a second, okay?”

He’s reaching forward and undoing the button on Phil’s jeans, sliding the rough fabric down past his hips before Phil can convince his lips and tongue to form words again. “O- okay.”

The guy pushes him gently backwards, and Phil goes until his knees hit the bed. He sits down. The guy crouches to pull Phil’s pants off his ankles. 

“What’s your name?” Phil asks. It feels wrong to accept a blowjob from a guy without knowing his name.

The guy looks up at Phil through his lashes. “Clint.”

“Clint,” Phil says, trying it out. It suits him. “I’m Phil.”

Clint chuckles. “I know.” He pushes Phil until he lies down, and then climbs over him. Clint brushes a chaste kiss over Phil’s lips. “It’s nice to meet you, Phil.”

Clint’s hand ghosts over the front of his boxers. Despite his exhaustion, Phil’s dick twitches. Phil groans. “L- likewise.”

Still chuckling, Clint reaches down and pulls Phil’s half-hard cock out of the slit between his boxers. He gives it a few strokes before leaning over and sucking the head of it into his mouth. 

Phil tries to watch, but at the first touch of that soft, wet heat, he lets his head flop back down against the pillows. “Oh my _God_.”

“Mm,” Clint agrees.

“Holy _fuck_.”

Clint sucks wetly. “Maybe later.”

Phil groans. Clint starts to bob his head up and down, taking more of the shaft into his mouth. It feels so _good_. How long has it been since Phil’s had a blowjob? Clint’s mouth is sinful, hot and wet over Phil’s naked flesh.

“Oh, shit, wait.” He waves a hand at Clint’s shoulder and ends up smacking him in the face. 

Clint pops off with an illicit slurp. “What?”

His voice sounds rough. Phil stares at him in frank desire before he remembers what he’d been about to say. “Um. Condom. We need a condom.”

Clint shakes his head. “Nah. Fury took care of the paperwork. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t – ?” Phil shakes his head. “What?”

Clint waves a hand towards the kitchen. “I’ll show you my paperwork later. Blowjob now.” He bends his head back to the task. 

“Oh, _fuck_.” Phil gives up on thinking at the reapplication of that warm, delicious mouth. He doesn’t know what’s going on, he’s obviously missing something, but he’s tired, and sore, and apparently Nick is okay with random strangers giving him blowjobs. “Fuck, yes. Do that again.”

Clint does. Phil’s hips jerk up of their own accord. He can’t seem to make himself stop. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Fuck, I can’t – I’m close. I’m close. I’m going to – ”

Clint just holds him still and swallows him down. Phil groans when his cock hit the back of Clint’s throat. “Ghahhh.”

“Mmm,” Clint agrees. He licks Phil clean and then tucks him back into his boxers before collapsing on the bed next to Phil. “That was good.”

Phil’s already half asleep, but he tries to pat a hand at Clint’s groin. “Wha ‘bout y’?”

Clint shakes his head and tucks himself into Phil’s shoulder. “I’m good.”

“N’, b’t – ”

Clint kisses his shoulder. “Go to sleep, Phil.”

Phil tucks his head down, inhaling the scent of Clint’s clean, washed hair. It smells like heaven. “’K.”

 

*

 

Phil isn’t sure how long he sleeps for, but he wakes up feeling slightly out of sync. He’s bleary and his body is aching, but it’s duller, less pressing than it had been before. 

Before the _utterly amazing blowjob_. 

Right. 

Phil looks around. The bedroom is empty. He stumbles to the bathroom first and then to the kitchen. Clint is there, unpacking boxes of mixing bowls and frowning at the one with a chip in it.

He looks up when Phil enters. “Do you want this one?” he asks, holding up the bowl. “It’s broken.”

Phil blinks at him. Clint looks very good sitting in his kitchen. Also very comfortable. “That’s mine. I broke it when I was five years old. What are you still doing here?”

Clint smiles. “I’m just getting things sorted. Go back to sleep.”

“K, but – ” Phil looks around. About half the boxes in the kitchen have been opened. “The moving company can’t be paying you to do this.”

“The moving company isn’t paying me to do anything,” Clint explains patiently. He stands up. “Come on, back to bed.”

The sensation of missing something intensifies. “I don’t understand.”

Clint leans over and brushes a kiss against Phil’s temple. “I know you don’t. It’s okay. I’ll explain in the morning.”

“It is the morning.”

“It’s mid-afternoon. You slept for almost a day. You need at least half a day more. Come on, sir. Back to sleep.”

Phil isn’t sure why, but he follows Clint back to the bedroom. He _is_ pretty exhausted, and Clint hasn’t killed him or stolen anything yet. “Okay.”

He lets Clint peel back the covers and tuck him in, but Phil grabs his hand when he goes to leave. “You, too.”

Clint smiles at him. “I don’t think you’re up for another blowjob yet.”

“No, I know, just – ” He pulls until Clint gives up and climbs into bed beside him. Phil tugs him back into place on his shoulder and leans over to smell his hair with a small hum. “You smell nice.”

He can feel Clint chuckle against his chest. “So do you, sir.”

“Mm.” Phil’s too tired to wonder what’s going on. He’ll figure it out in the morning. “’Night.”

Clint’s breath is warm. “Good night.”

 

*

 

When he wakes for a second time, Clint is still there. Phil stretches in bed and rolls over, feeling like himself for the first time in days. 

Clint just snuffles in his sleep and resettles. Phil takes the opportunity to look his fill. 

Clint is _gorgeous_. His dirty blonde hair is soft against the white pillow, his face looks even younger in sleep. There’s a crook to his nose that says it’s been broken, and a few lines around his eyes that Phil would bet are from squinting into the sun. His skin is a beautiful, golden brown, but his tan is uneven – wherever he got it, it wasn’t while lying on a beach.

There are also a number of scars on his body. Phil starts cataloguing them all. There’s a knife wound on his ribs and a bullet hole on his shoulder. There’s also a shiny patch on his back that must be from a burn. The thin red line on the back of his wrist captures Phil’s attention, though. It’s only a week or so old. 

Phil gently strokes it with one hand. Clint grimaces.

“So you _are_ awake.”

Clint stretches. “Yeah. Sorry. Never could sleep when someone was watching me.”

“Mm,” Phil agrees. He traces the red line again. He can feel the tracking chip beneath it. “You’re a slave.”

Clint nods easily. “My whole life. I was sold into the circus as a kid and ran away a couple of years ago. I went into mercenary work, but it wasn’t – wasn’t _good_ , you know? Nick Fury tracked me down last month and offered me a job.”

Phil stares at him. “Oh my God.” He sits up. “You’re _Hawkeye_.”

Clint grins at him. “Yup.”

“Holy shit.” Phil blinks rapidly, thinking back. “I saw you in Peru. You were – ”

“A pain in the ass?”

“Incredible.”

Clint blushes. “Ah. Thank you?”

Phil shakes his head. “I hadn’t realized Nick had finally caught you.”

“Yeah, he said he’d been keeping you in the dark, something about things being stressful at home. I guess he was talking about your mom?”

Phil nods slowly. “He was. She was sick for a long time. It was – ” He clears his throat. “So what are you doing here?” A thought strikes him. “Oh, no.”

Clint grins. “Oh, yes.”

“For the love of – ” Phil groans. “Nick always said he’d buy me a slave boy if I didn’t settle down and learn to look after myself.”

Clint laughs. “Yes, well, it’ll be beneficial to both of us, you’ll see. I’m good at cooking and cleaning and giving you blowjobs.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “It’ll be like a vacation for both of us.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “I’ve only got a week off for bereavement leave. What’s going to happen after that?”

Clint shrugs. “I’m still working my way through S.H.I.E.L.D.’s recruitment classes. I think Fury’s hoping that this arrangement will work out between us and you’ll be my handler in the field.”

“So you’re with me because as a slave you need to have a designated owner inside of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Clint nods, but for the first time, he looks away. “Yes, but also because Fury gave me a choice. He showed me a bunch of senior agents and told me a little bit about each of them. It was you or John Garrett or Victoria Hand. I picked you.”

Phil reaches over and gently takes Clint’s chin. “And why did you choose me?”

Clint meets his eyes. His lips twitch up in an approximation of a smirk. “Well, there was that one story about a cheese factory and a mole rat and – ”

“ _Clint_.”

Clint’s smile falters. “You – you seemed nice.” He swallows. “I’ve had a lot of not-nice in my life. And there was the fact that you’ve never had a slave before.”

Phil nods. “I’ve never really believed in them. Never felt the urge to own someone before.”

“Yes, well, you’ve got me now. If – if you want me. There are papers to sign in the kitchen.”

Phil lets go of Clint’s chin and strokes a finger carefully down his cheek. “I want you,” he says slowly. “I never would have agreed to this if Nick had walked up and asked me, which is probably why he didn’t, but – ” He quirks a smile. “I’ve gotten far too used to you already to just give you away to somebody else.”

Clint grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“We’re going to have to work on our communication skills, though; something about important information that needs to be relayed to your handler before we start working together in the field.”

Clint turns his head to nip at Phil’s fingers. “In the interests of communication, then, can I tell you that I really enjoyed sucking your cock and want to do it again?”

Phil laughs and rolls them over, pulling Clint on top. “Oh, you’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

“So much trouble,” Clint agrees, smiling and leaning down to kiss him. “So very, very much.”


End file.
